After an hour and numerous epiphanies, Henry finally watched Luxa, Temp, and Gregor climb onto Nike's back. His head was spinning so violently that he could barely maintain his balance.

The cure was not the starshade, he repeated to himself over and over. Not the starshade. The mirror. Hamnet and Thanatos had . . . what had he meant? Thought Henry. What had they all meant? The plague . . .

Henry winced as he inadvertently bit his lip too hard. The jumble of thoughts in his mind was almost too much to handle, but as he observed Nike circling above them, with the children safely perched on her back, a strange sense of clarity washed over him.

A plague for a weapon, he thought. And he thought he also knew who had concocted it. There was but one person he thought to be capable of a feat like this . . . The person Hamnet had compared him to.

For a moment, Henry wondered if this changed anything. If he still wouldn't mind being compared to her now. Henry couldn't tell. All he knew was that Solovet had to be desperate if she took such measures . . . and that everything would depend on Luxa's ability to convince the council to provide the entire Underland with the cure. If they did not provide the cure as they had the sickness, especially to the gnawers . . . Henry gritted his teeth. The sheer magnitude of casualties would extinguish any remaining hope for peace in the foreseeable future.

At least Luxa had assured him that their agreement stood—if they had the antidote in Regalia, they would send it to the Death Rider for his services at the Vineyard. He pictured her dire face as she had stared up at him and proclaimed that he had done them a great service and that his deed would not be forgotten.

"Fly you high!"

Henry jumped when Ripred shouted after Nike and quickly added his own "Fly you high!"

"Run like the river, Ripred! Fly you high, Death Rider!" Gregor replied. Luxa was still as stone . . . Not that Henry could blame her. If his people had developed and unleashed such a weapon behind his back, he'd be seething with wrath.

Henry and Ripred stood side by side as they watched them disappear out of sight, back into the Vineyard. They would be fine, Henry told himself. They knew what to expect now, and they knew to cover their faces and hold their breaths. They—

"So, Lapblood and I better get back now and spread the word," said Ripred. "What about you?"

Henry slowly turned to him and drew a blank. The vaccine . . . Thanatos and his . . . No. Henry shook his head and jumped when the flier appeared beside him. "I . . ." He stared at Ripred, and suddenly something surfaced from the depths of his mind, something that made his objective crystal clear: "Kismet."

"So," snarled Ripred. "You will actually try your luck with her?"

"What are you talking about?" asked Thanatos next to him.

"He did not tell you?" asked Ripred.

"When would I have?" Henry crossed his arms. "After we finished speaking, the cutters attacked almost immediately."

"Right, right." Ripred sighed theatrically.

"Move your hide!" called Lapblood, who waited a few paces behind him. "We should go before any more unforeseen incidents."

"Oh, there won't be any incidents anymore," replied Ripred. "The supposed cure is gone. There is nothing to come for anymore. Perhaps you want to rest for an hour or so before we leave."

Lapblood grumbled but finally understood that Ripred was right. So she settled in the middle of the barren plain, and Ripred turned his eyes back on Henry and Thanatos. "Let me give you the short version," he said to the flier, and in brief words, he explained what he had proposed to Henry. "And so, I told him to travel to the Firelands and seek out a hermit gnawer named Kismet. If anyone can ever help him, it is her," he concluded his tale.

"Halt!" exclaimed Henry. "Kismet is a gnawer?" He had not even questioned her species so far and suddenly felt insanely foolish for it.

"You would send him to a gnawer to be taught?" asked Thanatos skeptically.

"He did not mention this detail before," mumbled Henry.

Ripred laughed. "Oh no! Is this not the most beautiful dilemma? Give up on your challenge or trust a gnawer!" he said in a singsong voice. "Whatever will the lad choose?"

"I will go," said Henry with far less hesitation than anyone, even he himself, had expected.

"But Henry—"

"I must," he cut Thanatos off. "You say she can be trusted?" Part of him barely believed what he was saying. That he was asking Ripred whether he could trust another gnawer . . . with something as crucial as teaching him to fight again. That he was even considering this. But . . . Henry gritted his teeth until it hurt. He had no choice.

"Trust her like you trust me," said Ripred. "For whatever that's worth, I wager she's less allegiant to our kin than even I."

"I will go," repeated Henry with conviction. "I am not quitting so easily."

"Henry . . ."

"I must!" cried Henry, whipping around to Thanatos. "Don't you get it? This is me doing what you wanted. You told me to stop sitting idly. To start trying again. Is that not what you told me?"

Thanatos stared at him with an unreadable expression, and Henry swallowed.

"You were right," he conceded, casting his eye down. "About how I was being a delusional fool. Nothing will change unless I do something about it. This is me doing something."

Thanatos said nothing for another moment. "I understand," he concurred eventually. "If that is your choice, so we shall do it."

Something about the way he spoke made his gut coil into a knot, but Henry had no time to overthink it. "Excellent!" exclaimed Ripred. "You've already gotten further than I honestly pictured you would. Now go. Shoo!" He shoved Henry toward Thanatos. "Go and try her, and while you're at it, tell her I send my regards." He fell to all fours and yawned, glancing at the resting Lapblood, then turned back again. "Or actually, no, do not mention me. It'll make it a little less likely she'll tear you to shreds instantly. But only a little."

Henry actually managed a grin before he mounted up. "To the Firelands," he mumbled, and Thanatos took off.

He soared above the plain one last time, and Henry caught Ripred's "I can't be held responsible for any Kismet-induced casualties!"

Then Henry shouted his first "Run like the river!" that he had ever given Ripred . . . and found himself unexpectedly satisfied when he heard the rat's "Fly you high!" in response.

***

The journey to the citadel seemed unusually lengthy to Henry, despite the absence of any cutter interference. He assumed they were preoccupied trying to locate the battalion they had dispatched to the Vineyard.

He told Thanatos he would lie down to sleep, yet sleep would not come to him, not with how he had still not sorted out any of the impressions of before and after the battle. As Henry's face nestled into dark fur, his eye stayed wide open, unable to find the usual comfort in the familiar sensation. It will not change that he does not care for me. He heard the flier's voice utter the seemingly crystal-clear words, yet Henry spent a full five minutes pondering what Thanatos could have possibly meant.

He frowned; it was . . . By what means did Thanatos arrive at thinking that? All I must do is let go of the notion that he may ever genuinely care about me. His teeth gritted as the words sank in, and he sensed their sharp sting.

It was . . . not true, he adamantly repeated to himself. But why was he thinking it? Henry's eye flew open. Is this all the faith he has in me? He thought, attempting to suppress the shaking of his hands. After everything they had been through, after all his displays of loyalty and affection toward the flier . . . what more did he need? Henry tugged at his sword belt. What was he supposed to do? What had he . . . done wrong?

He flashed back to their argument last night and once more rued that he had gotten so angry. Then again . . . Thanatos hadn't expressed any dissatisfaction toward him the way that he usually did. He would . . . say something, if Henry was doing something wrong, would he not?

So he can treat me however he likes. If I do not have him, I have nothing.

Henry frowned. Those words made even less sense; they were bonds. No matter what happened, the last thing they had to fear was losing each other.

It will not change that he does not care for me. That he remains with me for his own convenience . . . Or who knows why. I do not even want to know.

Or was that what he wanted? Henry gritted his teeth painfully. Was that why he refused to make a big deal out of bonding—because he had never wanted their relationship to become anything more than convenience?

This thought sunk its venomous teeth deep into Henry's heart. And it hurt. It hurt so much more than he would have expected . . . or ever admitted. But it hurt almost too much to bear. And far too much to voice aloud.

He wanted to cover his ears with his hands and yell at the top of his lungs. Yell out every one of these fears and questions, but . . . what was he supposed to say? "Do you regret bonding because you never wanted our relationship to become more than convenience? Why do you think I'm incapable of caring for you?" Henry bit his lip so hard that he almost drew blood. "Why did you come to Hamnet with your troubles and not me? Who was Persephone? Who Arya? Was the garden part of why you went into exile? Why is it so hard for you to . . . trust me?"

As soon as the thought sank in, Henry jerked up from where he lay, and Thanatos twitched. "Is everything okay?"

Henry could not answer. Trust me! The words hammered themselves into his mind, firmer with each heartbeat. Trust me . . . Trust me . . . Trust me!

"I'm fine," he said absentmindedly. Trust me, his mind screamed along. Henry blew out a breath; to his dismay, it was unsteady. That . . . had to be it. But why?

Whatever you claim, it is still a bond. I will not break it.

It was, Henry thought defiantly, and so you should not have fear! You should not have fear. You should have trust. Trust me! But the flier had no trust. And so he stayed only because he thought he had . . . no choice.

This thought was like a fresh twist of the knife in his already bleeding heart. That wasn't what he wanted. Henry did not want coercion. He wanted trust. Had he not earned it? Why had he not? What had he done wrong? Over and over, this one question. Had he been inconsiderate? When and where? What had he . . . what was he still doing wrong?

Stay here with Frill, Hazard, and I. Let us give you new light. Let us give you peace.

You wanted to say yes, didn't you? He thought inadvertently. Would you have said yes, had they not . . . ?

Henry stopped himself before he could think it, shuddering in disgust with himself. Because, for a brief moment, he had found himself relieved that Hamnet had not survived to repeat the offer.

No, he thought adamantly. He could not think like that. He had never wanted this to happen. He had never wanted any of this to happen. If he was unhappy, why was Thanatos not talking to him? Was he waiting for something?

This had to be it. But the nagging suspicion that Thanatos may have accepted Hamnet's offer if he had survived would not leave him alone.

Henry silenced the screaming voice in his head with one command. Maybe he was being impatient. Maybe all he needed was more patience, and Thanatos would speak to him the way he always did, and then things would go back to the way they had been before. And then he would no longer have to feel fear.

He should not feel fear, Henry thought numbly. Why was he feeling fear if he was with his bond? Henry blinked repeatedly to purge the tears. What . . . had happened?

He flashed back to the last few months—the time since they had bonded. Since Thanatos had cowered over him in fear after he had lost his eye. Something . . . had happened. Henry blew out a breath, valiantly fighting the rising panic. Something . . . but what?

He searched his jumbled mind, yet drew a blank. There was nothing—nothing he could think of, at least. And that, Henry swallowed, relaxing his grip on Thanatos' fur, was the worst part: he did not know. And he could not fix what he could not recognize.

But I cannot lose him, Henry thought, desperately battling the swelling tears. I cannot . . . Not now, not ever. Not anymore. Not him too.

For a second, the image from his last nightmare flashed before his inner eye. He hadn't had any nightmares ever since they had left the island, yet once in a while the image of Thanatos behind the transparent wall, staring at him with that empty amber as he drowned, would appear to haunt him.

He hated that a fear like this existed somewhere deep in his mind and that he could not purge it. But at least it was groundless. It was . . . it had to be. He was probably being impatient as always. Henry desperately pressed his face into his flier's fur. He was here, and he would speak to him once he was ready . . . no? The way he always did. And until then, Henry would not give him a reason to leave. Not now, not ever. Not anymore.

Despite his best efforts, Henry eventually succumbed to his tears.

***

Just when Henry thought he could not bear the silence for a second longer, Thanatos shot out of a tunnel opening into an enormous cave with a fortress-like structure on the far end.

Zick and his friends greeted the "Wielder of Light and Rider of Death" as they had modified his name and his flier with the utmost hospitality. They were swamped with ready supplies and gifts, which the crawlers even carried outside so as not to exclude Thanatos, who could not fit through the entrance. Yet when Henry asked if they knew about a gnawer named Kismet who supposedly lived further north in the Firelands, all happy chatter ceased.

"Do not go to gnawer, do not go," Zick mumbled. The three friends he had brought to keep them all company even drew back, antennas quivering.

"Kismet is the only reason we are here at all," said Henry, stuffing a portion of the new supplies into his backpack. The rest he asked the crawlers to keep safe for him here. "Visiting you undeniably has its charm," he added after a moment of hesitation. "But we cannot be swayed to not go."

Zick and his companions exchanged glances, and when they understood that Henry was serious, they began talking to each other in Crawler. Their conversation went on for several minutes, and Henry was moments from interrupting when Zick finally pushed one of his friends toward them. "Tock can help, Tock can."

Henry and Thanatos listened with growing dread as the crawler named Tock described a path leading down toward the Firelands. It seemed that the shiners and pinchers they occasionally traded with had shared rumors about a hermit gnawer who had taken up residence in the crater of an inactive volcano located in the far eastern reaches of the Firelands.

"Avoided and rejected she is by most, rejected," Tock whispered. "Those who cross her path meet an evil fate, they meet."

"We shall avoid all evil fates as we always do," said Henry lightheartedly, but he felt anxious all the same.

And so, Tock hesitantly pointed them to the tunnel named "Path of Styx". "Follow it until the stone turns black, turns black," he said with a quivering voice. "May you live to return, may you."

Henry and Thanatos said their goodbyes to the crawlers and departed quickly thereafter. It took some fifteen minutes until the path they were following branched and mounded into the described Path of Styx. And the moment they entered, Henry felt as though the tunnel swallowed them. He sensed that it may not spit them out again for a long, long time.